


There's nothing better than a good friend, except a good friend with chocolate

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-30
Updated: 2011-03-30
Packaged: 2017-10-17 09:46:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/175518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Jensen is drunk and Misha attempts to prove he can cook (as well as a five year old).</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's nothing better than a good friend, except a good friend with chocolate

**Author's Note:**

> For [annundriel](http://annundriel.livejournal.com/), after our twitter conversation about Jensen and Misha licking chocolate off each other. This was originally only supposed to be a drabble, but it got a little out of hand. Huge huge HUGE thanks to [hsapiens](http://hsapiens.livejournal.com/) who held my hand all the way through this, patiently beta-ed it, and removed the millions of, commas, I kept, inserting. Also big thanks to [akadougal](http://akadougal.livejournal.com/) for giving it a read through and being a responsible adult by reminding me that they very nearly _did_ burn the place down...

They've both had a fair amount to drink; enough for Misha to wildly claim that he's an _amazing_ cook thank-you-very-much, but hopefully not enough that they're actually going to burn the place down whilst attempting to prove it.

Although when Jensen sees what Misha has in mind, he very much doubts that will be a problem.

"Seriously, Mish, Rice Krispie treats? Y'claim to be an 'amazing cook' and you're gonna prove it with something a five year old could make?" Jensen pokes at the box of cereal that Misha's placed on the counter while his head, and the majority of his upper body, is jammed into the cabinet below searching for chocolate. He resolutely decides not to stare at Misha's ass. Or at the little strip of skin showing between Misha's t-shirt and jeans where he's bent over at the waist.

It's possible that he's staring anyway.

"I can't be blamed for the lack of anything resembling ingredients in your house, Jensen," Misha's mocking tone is muffled slightly, until he suddenly emerges triumphant from the unknown depths of the cabinet, "See? Told you Jared hid this crap everywhere."

Misha dumps his haul on the counter next to the box of Rice Krispies, and Jensen is pretty impressed; Misha's managed to dig out a couple of Hershey's bars, some Rolos, and a few Caramello bars. Oh, this is _definitely_ going to end in a mess. He leans around Misha to grab the bottle of tequila they'd abandoned earlier and pours out some more shots for them both. He has the feeling they're going to need copious amounts of alcohol to get through this.

Watching Misha throw back the shot like it’s water probably isn’t helping the situation with Jensen’s wandering thoughts right now though. He realizes that he’s been watching the long line of Misha’s throat where his head is tipped back for a little too long, but he’s fairly sure that no one could blame him for that right now. After all, Jensen has so far managed to stop himself from actually leaning forward and pressing his lips to Misha’s neck, sucking at his pulse point, maybe biting a little at the soft skin there, so it’s a fair trade off that he gets to stare instead. And fantasize. And maybe adjust himself a little. He can feel his cock starting to twitch and thicken in his jeans, so he pours them both another shot each, and hopes that his dick will get back under control before he has to explain the noticeable bulge in his jeans to Misha.

\--

Several shots later and Misha has finally managed to get the chocolate mostly melted down. He's also managed to get it all over pretty much every counter in the kitchen. Jensen would be impressed if it didn't mean he'd have to clean it up in the morning when he was sober.

"We should -- we should test it to check it's not burned, right?" Jensen watches over Misha's shoulder as he shifts the bowl off the heat to stir the mess of melted chocolate and caramel, and okay, maybe he actually rests his head on Misha for a moment, but y'know, he's drunk and therefore can't be held accountable for his complete inability to maintain a safe distance between himself and the guy he's been having fucking wet dreams about for the last six months.

Misha makes a low noise in his throat, and Jensen can feel it vibrate throughout him. He automatically shifts half a step forward until he's practically flush against Misha's side before his brain kicks in and reminds him that he's not actually in one of his dreams now, so he should probably step the fuck back. He moves off to lean his hip against the counter and tries not to stare while Misha dips his finger into the mixture and lifts it to his own lips, tongue darting out to try to catch the drip of the chocolate and utterly failing as it smears around the heel of his palm, where it forms the base of his thumb.

Misha just ignores the mess he's making and pushes the rest of the chocolate into his mouth, and _jesusfuck_ Jensen can see his cheeks hollow a little as he sucks on his own finger, and he's pretty sure that he just let out a whimper at the sight. Jensen has never wanted anything as much as he wants those lips wrapped around his dick right now. He's vaguely aware through the haze of alcohol that he's been at least half-hard for the last ten minutes now, just from watching Misha move loose-limbed and comfortable around Jensen's kitchen, and although he might have been able to try to hide it earlier, there is definitely no mistaking the push of his dick tenting his jeans now. He tries to adjust himself a little again, make it less obvious.

"Oh, yeah, that tastes fucking amazing, Jen -- here, try it," Misha gives one last suck to the tip of his finger, then dips it back in to the chocolate, but before Jensen can make a joke about hygiene, Misha turns towards him and slides his finger dripping with the mess into Jensen's open mouth.

Jensen's dick twitches painfully hard in his jeans, swelling and filling out even more.

He moves on autopilot and sucks Misha's finger further into his mouth, moaning at the taste of sticky-sweet chocolate. He pulls off with an audible pop, before twisting Misha's wrist around slightly and ducking his head to lick and suck at the streak of chocolate at the base of Misha's thumb. He doesn't even think about what he's doing, so caught up in the taste of candy and _Misha_ that it takes him a good few seconds before his brain processes the sharp inhale and gasp from Misha. And it's another few seconds after that before he realizes that what he's doing isn't exactly appropriate.

Fuck.

He lets go of Misha's wrist, looks anywhere but at his friend and tries to step back, only the goddamn counter is in the way and _shit_ he knew getting drunk with Misha was a bad idea. He knew he'd end up losing control and doing something monumentally fucking stupid. Jensen opens his mouth, a half-formed apology ready, but he doesn't get any further because Misha's fingers are back, coated in more chocolate and pressing against his mouth. He automatically wraps his lips around the two digits and runs his tongue over the fingertips before his brain catches up again and he freezes. He's just on the wrong side of drunk to try to make any sense of this, because he's pretty sure that Misha is crowding into him against the counter and making soft needy sounds from the back of his throat, while he apparently tries to fuck Jensen's mouth with his fingers.

He's not drunk enough to mistake the feel of Misha's dick though, hot and hard through two layers of denim, where Misha has closed the distance between them and is now pressing insistently up against Jensen.

And he's definitely not drunk enough to miss the look on Misha's face, the one that quite clearly says he wants this, wants Jensen, and yeah, Jensen is starting to understand where this is going. He's suddenly acutely aware of how close they are, barely a few inches between them, and he almost wants to laugh about character bleed, but Jensen's having a hard time concentrating on anything right now. It'd almost be creepy from anyone else, the way that Misha is staring at him, like he's fallen into character and trying to read Dean's soul through his eyes, but somehow Misha can pull it off, and the intensity of not looking away is turning Jensen on more than he ever thought it could.

"Fuck, Jen, your _mouth_ ," Misha's breath is coming out in these little gasps and he sounds absolutely wrecked, and Jensen _wants_. He wants to see Misha on his knees, fucking sinful mouth wrapped around Jensen's dick. Wants to see him spread out below him, legs stretched wide around Jensen's shoulders while he crowds in close and pushes his slick fingers into Misha's ass and presses wet kisses to the base of Misha's cock. He wants to see Misha lying fucked out in Jensen's bed, marks all over his body from Jensen licking and sucking and biting at the skin.

He's in serious danger of coming in his pants soon if he doesn't think about something else quickly.

Jensen grabs hold of Misha's wrist again and when Misha doesn't attempt to break free, he slowly sucks the two fingers a little deeper into his mouth so that he can reach the chocolate dripping down them. He's pretty sure that groan just came from Misha, but it's entirely possible that it could have been from himself because _fuck_ this is Jensen's own personal brand of heaven. He can taste the sickly sweet mix of chocolate and caramel, but underneath that? Well, that's all Misha. It's a taste that he could easily get addicted to, and it takes Jensen a moment to realise that there's no chocolate left on Misha's fingers any more, but he's still licking and sucking and nipping, and yeah, that groan was definitely from Misha this time.

Misha is rocking up against Jensen's hip, and the friction is fan-fucking-tastic, but Jensen isn't satisfied with just having Misha's fingers in his mouth now, he needs _more_ , needs to take Misha's cock between his lips and run his tongue over the head, taste Misha without the chocolate getting in the way. He doesn't get the chance to do any of that though, because Misha is already dropping to his knees, hands pulling at Jensen's belt until it finally gives way, flicking open the buttons holding his jeans together, and then dragging Jensen's jeans and underwear down his thighs until there's nothing left between Jensen's dick and Misha's plush lips, just begging to be fucked.

He can feel his pulse pounding in his ears, a combination of too much tequila and too much _Misha_. His dick is so hard it's almost painful, and he has to wrap his hand around the base, grip it tight and try not to come as he watches Misha's tongue flick out to lick at the head, gathering up the pre-come he finds there. Jensen reaches out with his other hand to wrap around the base of Misha's skull, fingers tangling in the soft strands of hair as he tilts his hips forward and feeds his cock slowly between Misha's lips. He can't stop the noise that rips from his throat at how fucking hot and wet and goddamn _perfect_ Misha's mouth feels around his dick.

"Fuck, _fuck_ Mish -- I can't, ah, not gonna last long --" Jensen can barely even see straight any more, it's too much to take in, sensory overload, and all he can do is try to hold on, try not to come too soon. Misha's hands disappear from view for a second, and it takes a moment for him to try and catch up before he realizes that Misha's undoing his own jeans. Jensen shifts slightly until he can see Misha take his cock out, fisting at the head a little to spread his own slickness around, and Jensen thrusts a little deeper into Misha's mouth at the sight.

Misha pulls off Jensen's cock with an obscene pop, and leans back a little so that Jensen can watch the head of his dick as it slides through his fist. Jensen's hand starts moving on his own cock in time with Misha's, and then they're back to staring at each other again, until Jensen has to close his eyes for a second to try to gain control. He just needs a moment, a few seconds, to get himself back together again because he's having a hard time processing this. He's standing in his kitchen, jeans pushed halfway down his thighs, jacking off over the face of one of his best friends, who in turn is kneeling in front of him fisting his own dick, and looking more devastatingly fuckable than anyone should ever have the right to look. He can hear the slick sound of Misha jerking off getting faster and faster, skin on skin, and he automatically quickens his own pace, imagines pressing Misha down onto his bed, crawling over him and wrapping his hand around them both, jacking them off together, hard and fast until Misha comes all over them both, slicking the way for Jensen to thrust up against the cut of Misha’s hip. It’s a fantasy he’s had more than once, although he’s usually on his own for it, in his trailer, or shower, trying to picture what Misha would look like when he’s aroused. He definitely won’t have to imagine what that looks like any more.

Jensen can feel his balls tighten, knows he's about to come, and barely gets out a strangled " _Mish_ \--" before Misha surges forward again, lips wrapping back around the head of Jensen's dick, sucking hard, and his orgasm hits him like a punch, practically ripping out of him. His hand is still working furiously on his dick as he spills into Misha's mouth, and he can't stop the noises he's making as Misha just swallows him down, tongue flexing just right to drive Jensen nearly insane.

It takes him a moment to come back to himself, but when he does, he can see that Misha is getting close, leaning back again and jacking himself hard and fast, and Jensen doesn't even hesitate, just drops down to his knees in front of Misha, knocks his hand out of the way, and picks up the rhythm, hand gliding up and down on Misha's cock, shiny and slick thanks to the pre-come pulsing out.

They're even closer now, on their knees with their thighs pressed up tight against each other, Jensen's softening dick pressed up tight against Misha's balls. There's hardly any space to jerk Misha off properly, but Jensen's not going to let that stop him. He twists his wrist slightly on the upstroke, the pad of his thumb catching just right on the head of Misha's dick, and suddenly Misha's hands are all over Jensen, scrabbling to push his t-shirt up under his armpits, before Misha pushes even closer, that last inch of space between them gone. Jensen has a moment to feel Misha thrusting slick and hard against his abdomen, reminding him of his fantasy, before Misha stiffens, drops his head into the crook of Jensen's neck and bites down between his neck and shoulder, moans against the skin as he's coming, hot and pulsing between them.

They’re both still for a moment, hearts racing, before Misha lifts his head to press his forehead against Jensen’s, and Jensen can feel the puffs of air against his lips as Misha tries to get his breathing under control. He registers that Misha has started laughing, quiet little chuckles, and Jensen can’t help but grin at the sound, even though he has no idea what is apparently so fucking funny.

"Wanna let me in on the joke, Mish?" Jensen grabs hold of his t-shirt, still bunched up under his armpits and tugs it over his head, drops it on the floor out of the way, before glancing down to survey the mess all over his stomach and chest.

"It’s nothing, just not really looking forward to cleaning all this up," Misha grins as he gestures around the kitchen, and yeah, now that Jensen really looks, the place looks like a hyperactive toddler has been let loose in it. Or worse, a hyperactive Jared.

"Fuck that, we’ll sort it in the morning. Just wanna sleep for now," Jensen murmurs against Misha’s mouth as he leans in for a kiss, just a light brush of lips, but that’s all it takes for him to realize that this is their first kiss. He had Misha’s lips wrapped around his dick before they even kissed, and just how ass-backwards is this thing they’ve got going on? He doesn’t really get much chance to examine that thought though, because Misha is tilting his head a little and taking control of the kiss like they’ve been doing this forever, and Jensen’s happy to let his head shut up for a little while and go with it.

He can think about the clean up tomorrow.


End file.
